We Never Seem To Catch A Break, Do We?
by HandsAcrossTheSea
Summary: Scott just wants to get his boyfriend off. Stiles wants the same. And yet, the universe seems to be doing everything in its power to keep that from happening.


"You're doing it again."

Jab.

"Scooooott!"

Another jab.

Scott's still somewhere deep in blissful,_ dreamless_ sleep – that's really kind of nice, considering that things haven't exactly been not nightmare filled recently. That and Stiles is here and he's so warm and comfortable and-

"Get offa me, you beast." Scott's awakened roughly, his entire world shifting right as he opens his eyes and meets the surface of his mattress – the non-pillow covered part. His left arm also hurts – it must have fallen asleep where he had it wrapped around Stiles during the night. Shoving himself back onto his other side, he flops back over, half-blurry vision filling in with his very disgruntled looking boyfriend. Best friend. Whatever. (The lines blur a lot of the time and just because they sleep together hasn't really changed the relationship that much.)

"Not a beast." Scott yawns, stretching his body and then situating himself back on his pillow, exhaling and fixing Stiles with a half-hearted scowl. "And I was comfortable."

"I wasn't. Just because you're a werewolf now doesn't mean you gotta drool on me like one." Stiles has retreated under the blankets, taking them all with him and leaving Scott mostly uncovered, everything save for his legs.

"I wasn't drooling on you." Scott manages to retrieve at least half the comforter, staving off the early October chill to some extent. "Just… subconsciously tasting you, is all."

Stiles quirks one eyebrow, which given that Scott can only see his nose and eyes looks really adorable. "No, you were drooling. It went down my neck and then I think into my mouth." Stiles burrows a little further, his eyes starting to close again.

"You've not complained about it before." Scott moves closer, his goal partly to get under _his_ covers again and also to get his hands on Stiles' body in the process. "And by before I mean-"

"Yeah, you're tongue in my mouth. See, then it's sexy. When it's you drooling on my neck like a Labrador it's just gross." Stiles does acquiesce to Scott's attempts to get back to his source of warmth, lifting up the blankets and letting him in. Besides, drooling or not he does like being held in those admittedly very very nice arms, with their tan skin and biceps and hands that make him feel like treasure. Once Scott's comfortable again, he pulls the blankets up, still looking unpleased about being salivated on. "Even if you are a cute Labrador."

Scott smiles, bringing his hand up and running his fingers through Stile's short hair. "You're the one who likes to be petted like a dog." To reinforce his point he scritches his fingers over Stiles' scalp, making Stiles hum contentedly. Scott's good at this, head rubs and the like. Then again, as long as he's known him Scott's also been eager to please, not just him but _everyone. _Stiles just so happens to be on the receiving end of it most of the time.

"So?" Stiles moves a little closer, their legs having to tangle together somewhere under the sheets so they can be as close as they want. It's true though – Stiles is so not the person who dislikes being touched. He's been tactile as long as Scott can remember – before he even knew what tactile meant. And Scott has lots and lots of love to give. (This whole… thing had started one night as they were driving themselves crazy with world history homework and Scott had started rubbing Stiles' cramped shoulders, thing getting heated and then they were kissing in Stiles' chair and they had never looked back.)

"So I think we should rewind a bit – to that whole 'when my saliva is sexy thing.' That's a good thing to think about." Scott's close enough to where he's slightly out of focus, mostly a tan blur but that's fine – Stiles doesn't need to see him. He can hear his voice and feel his breath against his skin just fine.

"You have morning breath." Stiles says it like it's going to change whatever Scott's about to do but Scott knows by now that it's just Stiles, talking for the sake of talking and he may be still just a little bit uncomfortable with this level of intimacy – he loves Scott more than anything else in the world and sometimes it's still a little difficult to grasp that Scott feels the same.

"So?" Scott parrots Stiles' word back to him and then they're kissing, Stiles's eyes closing after a moment because he needs to see Scott this close and personal for just the briefest of seconds, bringing his hand up from where it's been lingering on Scott's side to cup his face, fingers skittering up Scott's arm and biceps before settling on his cheek because yes, this is his and he gets to touch all he wants so he may as well take fucking advantage of it.

Stiles is all about making out until they can't breathe – that's fine. He knows Melissa's home (they've worked out her shift schedule so they can take maximum advantage of alone time) and he's a little antsy about doing anything more than kissing but clearly Scott has other plans, given the way his right hand is moving from where he has Stiles pulled to his body downwards, fingernails dragging lightly across his skin (for a moment he has a vision of Scott's claws doing that and it only serves to make the kiss that much more desperate) and down to the waistband of his boxers, fingers dipping in and running through his pubic hair and lower stomach, lighting up the whole area with sensation and _fuck_ it feels fantastic and as much of a pleaser Scott is he's also a huge fucking tease – he's gonna make Stiles want it as much as he can before he actually does anything. Besides, she just came home from a night shift and she's asleep so it's not like she's gonna hear them or anything…

Scott's oblivious to his boyfriend's thought process as Stiles pulls away from Scott's mouth just a hair, lips parted as his brain tries to adjust to the pleasant shock of Scott's fingers dancing around his junk. "What d'you want Scott?"

Low and serious, almost a growl Scott answers "I wanna suck your cock." Scott pushes Stiles onto his back, straddling his lower stomach and reconnecting the kiss and yeah, Stiles is one hundred percent on board with that idea, hands coming up to settle on those gorgeous hipbones, Scott all muscle and athleticism where Stiles is smooth adolescence, the same age yes but so different physically – not that Scott doesn't absolutely worship Stiles' body, hands roaming over his chest and shoulders and he presses and holds the kiss as deep as he can. Scott rocks backwards a bit, grinding his ass against Stiles' erection, Stiles' hands squeezing his hips and digging in because he's not capable of much else right now.

Scott finally break the kiss and starts to move down, floppy dark hair dragging across Stiles' pale skin like dusk claiming the day, little kisses dropped all the way from his throat all the way down to his treasure trail, looking up at Stiles with this gorgeous brown puppy eyes as he mouths at his dick through his boxers, paying attention to where there's a dark patch of precome making itself larger to the left then towards the center again to where he can just get the tip of his tongue inside the bottom of the button fly, one quick, fleeting tease of what's to come against the lower end of Stiles' cock, followed by Scott's hands sliding up from under Stiles' legs and up from behind, the smooth fucker getting his underwear off by pulling it down ass first, the waistband catching against Stiles' dick and finally he's free. Scott watches with a satisfied smile as his boyfriend's long, slender cock lands with a thwack against his belly, head shiny with precome that he's awfully proud of causing to be there.

Stiles gets one hand in Scott's hair and guides him – they've done this enough times to know how it goes. Scott moves forward, Stiles tugging him gently and he licks his lips, perpetually in awe of the fact that Scott wants him so badly he looks like a puppy being bathed in attention. Maybe it's not the most careful simile but hey, it's not his fault Scott's fucking adorable.

"Want it bad today, huh?" Stiles asks as Scott buries his nose in his balls and inhales deeply, taking in the scent of sleep-warm skin and soap, Axe of some kind. Scott just nods, silky strand of hair soft through Stile's fingers as he moves his head, moving up and his lips are level with the back of the head of Stiles' uncut cock, pink glans exposed where his foreskin's pulled down. Scott blows a steady, cool stream of air across it, making Stiles' breath hitch and stick in his throat. He feels Stiles' fingers tighten in his hair, a sign that what he just did feels amazing – so he does it again, getting Stiles worked up to the point where he's trying to put a damper on the curses half muttered, half whispered because they aren't alone but Scott's really set on making Stiles loose his composure all the same.

He's got his mouth poised over Stiles' cock, lips wet and ready to go down on him when there's a knock on the door.

"Boys! Breakfast!" Stiles moves lightning quick, Melissa's voice cutting through the haze of pleasure that had been fogging his mind, pushing Scott away and for all of his no fucks given attitude being seen naked by Scott's mom is not on his list of experiences he wants to have, out of the bed and retrieving a pair of Scott's underwear from the floor, beating it to his bathroom and nearly wiping out on a lacrosse cleat in the process – it's all very clumsily adorable until Melissa's standing there in the doorway, Scott sitting in the middle of his bed with a pillow across his lap. It's not that Melissa doesn't know about he and Stiles – she just doesn't like to think about it.

"I called for you half an hour ago, now breakfast is getting cold."

"We thought you were asleep." Scott tries to make himself sound as composed as possible, erection still throbbing and he can feel his precome sticking to the material of his boxer briefs and this has to be the most uncomfortable situation he's ever been in.

"I got off earlier than expected. Figured I may as well surprise you with bacon and eggs instead of cereal and…" She can see that Scott's giving her that "so awkward I'm going to die look" and says "two minutes and BOTH of you better be downstairs. Almost noon anyway – should be out of bed." She makes a hasty retreat and Scott wants to go and check on Stiles but he figures he heard her loud and clear anyway so he pulls on a tank top and gym shorts, tucking his boner away as best he can.

Stiles appears right as Scott's about to exit his room, dressed in his own clothes from where he'd discarded them in the bathroom before his shower the night before. "Never again."

"Oh I'm going down on you again, you can be sure of that." Scott tries to make light of the situation but for once it just makes Stiles groan.

"No. When she's here. And stuff." Scott can see that Stiles looks just as frustrated as before, the hungry look in his eyes like he wants to jump Scott at the top of the stairs.

"You didn't get off in the bathroom?" Scott drops his voice to a whisper just in case Melissa's not back in the kitchen.

"Dude, no! Not with your mom ten feet away!"

"Thought I got you all worked up though." Scott pauses, taking Stiles by the shoulder and putting his arm around his waist, feeling that Stiles is still just as hard as he is.

"You did." Stiles gives him a kiss, quick and sloppy and they hear footsteps close enough to where they break apart quickly and guiltily, both of them riled up to the point it hurts.

Following what has to be the most awkward (albeit delicious) brunch to ever occur, Stiles figures he better head home. Melissa looks at him the whole time like he's corrupted her son (and okay, yes he has and is damned proud of it) but all the same it's unnerving as hell so as soon as his plate is clear he's out. Scott follows him to where his jeep is parked, going around to the other side just in case Melissa's keeping an eye out for any untoward business.

"You gonna be okay with your Mom?" Stiles asks as he fiddles with the hem of Scott's shirt.

"Yeah, don't worry." There's still want burning hot in his eyes and he wants nothing more than to finish what they started earlier – he can still taste the barest trace of Stiles' skin on his tongue and it's like nectar dropped from the heavens above – and he wants a lot more.

"This isn't over." Scott steals a kiss anyway, dipping his tongue into Stiles' mouth for the briefest of seconds, pleased with the little shiver Stiles gives at the contact.

"I know. I'll… we'll try and fix it later. Together Promise." Stiles gently pushes Scott away because if he doesn't leave right now they will be arrested for public indecency because he's gonna rip Scott's clothes off.

"See ya bro." Scott backs up, letting Stiles back out of the driveway and he goes back inside, helping his mom clean the dishes and decidedly staying in sight the rest of the day so as to avoid endangering ruining his mother's image of him any further.

It still doesn't mean he doesn't want his boyfriend's dick in his mouth like nobody's business, of course.

. . .

Stiles does a very good job of controlling himself the rest of the day – he mostly manages to ignore his dick because he said that he and Scott would solve their issue together – besides, he really really likes seeing Scott's face when his orgasm is a result of his own – Scott definitely gets off on Stiles getting off more than anything else. He's in his room at his laptop, researching more werewolf stuff because why the hell not (it keeps Scott on the brain anyway) when he sees his Skype icon flash. It's the first time he's heard from Scott all day so he jumps at the opportunity, immediately hitting video call when he sees it's Scott asking if he can chat face to face.

When he opens the window he's presented with naked – or at least shirtless – Scott, looking the very epitome of bored and horny.

"Thought Melissa had killed you." Stiles leans forward in his chair, keeping his voice low so his dad doesn't hear, in the living room watching TV after his patrol.

Scott gives him a little smile, clearly pleased to see his boyfriend. "Nah, she's fine – and at work." The last three words are said with the most painfully suggestive tone that Stiles can't help but give Scott a goofy grin.

"Y'know this works a lot better in person. I could sneak out if you-"

"Better play it safe, bro." Scott sounds serious enough but Stiles is far more concerned with checking out his chest, not as hi-def as real life but it'll do for now. Stiles finds himself rubbing his cock through his pajama bottoms, having been at least half-hard all day and it takes no time at all for him to get back to fully aroused, considering the visual he has right now. Scott's got this little smile on his face like he knows exactly what he's doing to Stiles but he's not going to say anything. It's not like his boyfriend is trying to hide the fact he's rubbing his dick, either.

"Stiles?" Scott's voice descends to a whisper, leaning in so that he's closer to the mic on his laptop.

"Yeah?" Stiles' gaze is locked onto Scott's chest, popped out and veiny and he realizes Scott must have been doing pull ups or pushups or whatever else it is that best friends cum boyfriends do to make themselves look like Sean Cody models.

"Want to jack off together?" Scott doesn't particularly care what Stiles' answer is – he's going to do it anyway.

"Hell _yes_." Stiles is in the process of standing and pulling his pants off when Scott tilts the camera down and yep, he's been naked this whole time. Scott has one hand wrapped around his cock, thick and uncut, just above average length and standing from a dark thatch of pubic hair – even over the less than optimal video quality Stiles can see Scott's wet with precome, smeared and shiny where Scott's using his thumb to spread it around, his breath coming in short little gasps as he gets himself worked up. As much as Stiles wishes it was him doing that to Scott this is pretty damn good all on its own, Stiles mirroring Scott's movements and there's no effort to contain his moans – Melissa isn't home so Scott can be as loud as he wants and if he's going to do this for Stiles, he's going to do it _right._

Stiles is doing his best to stay quiet but Scott's making that a more and more difficult goal to obtain, knowing what he's doing gets Stiles riled up like nothing else. Stiles would normally be running his mouth and filling Scott's ears with dirty talk (albeit not very good dirty talk) but the last thing he needs it his dad to walk into his room and discover that he's watching his best friend beat it over Skype with him.

The thrill of discovery doesn't stop a shiver of pleasure going down his spine all the same anyway.

"Watch me." Scott gets up, legs shaking from where his body is charged with arousal and Stiles has a wonderful, fleeting vision of marking those muscled thighs up with bites – Scott would be into biting, right? He thinks he would be. That train of thought is derailed anyway when Scott poises himself on his chair so that Stiles is looking at his back and ass, a change of scenery that's just as good as Scott's front. Stiles bites his lip in an effort to stifle a groan as he feels himself stiffen another fraction more, completely boned up and leaking steadily where he's stroking himself, fingers wet with precome as he watches Scott put both hands on his ass and pulls his cheeks apart.

"Scott…" He says it loud enough to where Scott can hear him but not so loud as to draw attention from the other occupant of his house. Scott reads that one word loud and clear, knowing Stiles is at that point of foggy lust and he's the only one who can guide him out of it. Scott slips a hand further in, keeping himself spread with the other one and touches two fingers to his hole, Stiles whining softly at the sight of that soft pink skin set amongst gorgeous tan skin. Stiles hasn't spent a ton of time back there but certainly enough to know just how much Scott likes having that area touched and played with – it's Stiles goal at some point in the near future to lay Scott out and see how many times he can make him come just from doing butt stuff –

"Wish it was you touching me bro." Scott's want-riddled voice cuts through Stiles' thought process, watching Scott rub the pads of two fingers over that gorgeous furl of skin, a little harder and longer every time his hand moves. "Fucking… fucking love that Stiles. When you put your fingers or tongue here."

Stiles manages a shaky "yeah?" in between trying to keep himself somewhat composed.

"Yeah. Especially your cock. Need it man, need you to fuck me." There's the sound of lube opening and then up come two coated fingers, the same ones he'd been using to rub his hole and then Scott's pushing them into his body, Stiles watching, mesmerized, Scott going all the way down to his knuckles and then just as slow back out, his whole body shaking with sensation.

"Scott, don't…" Stiles isn't sure what he was going to say, honestly. Don't do that without me? Don't make yourself come yet? He's not sure but he definitely knows he wants to keep watching this, Scott laying himself open on his own fingers. That's fucking hot, is what it is.

"Have to, Stiles. Can't wait any longer." Scott's adding a third fingers, really starting to fuck himself good on his own hand and Stiles is in the initial stages of feeling his orgasm start and it's wonderful and perfect and then –

The power goes out.

Completely.

Stiles still has his fingers wrapped around his dick and it takes a long second for him to realize that he's no longer staring at his boyfriend's gorgeous ass but darkness, his laptop running on battery and presenting him with a blank call screen, no wi-fi connection or anything else.

Sheriff Stilinski is making his way to the breaker when he hears his son's long, self-bemoaning wail of defeat, shaking his head and thinking to himself that whatever he was doing upstairs couldn't have warranted that kind of shriek.

If he only knew.

. . .

A power surge had knocked out the transformer for Stiles' block so by the time things came back on it was late Sunday afternoon and hormones had been running high the whole time. Scott's a ticking bomb of desperation when Stiles comes over to study for biology that evening and Melissa's there, keeping a watchful eye on the boys because they most certainly aren't going to be getting up to any funny business while she's home – besides, they have work to do.

Scott and Stiles sit as close as acceptable at the kitchen table, books and notes laid out in front of them but none of it's making the least bit of sense – they can feel the heat coming off of each other and Scott keeps shooting Stiles mostly covert looks of unabashed yearning and Stiles just gets more and more fidgety with each one. Scott should stop, really, but it's all he's got at the moment and then there's Stiles toes just barely touching his on the floor and it's enough to drive him mad too.

"Boys?" Melissa's voice snaps them out of their faux concentration on DNA and RNA work so fast Stiles nearly gets whiplash.

"Yes?" they say in unison, trying to wipe the guilty looks off of their faces.

"Why don't the two of you go get some dinner – take this." She hands Scott a twenty dollar bill along with a "take care of whatever your problem is while you're gone" look.

She's the best mom in the world, Scott thinks to himself.

"Yeah, sure" is all Scott manages before Stiles is tugging him towards the door, feet stomped into shoes as quick as they can manage as they head out to Stiles' jeep. Scott nearly loses his balance from where Stiles is tugging him along by his shirt front but it's fine – Stiles is touching him and manhandling him and it's better than almost anything they've managed in the last forty eight hours.

Stiles pulls a few blocks away where they won't be seen and parks again, the moment the engine's turned off he's practically hauled Scott into his lap, kissing him hungrily and there's teeth and lips touching and making sparks between them, desire that's barely gone down to a simmer flaring back up hot. Scott was hard before Stiles finished pulling him into the driver's seat with him and there's a fumbling effort to get pants undone and hands on hot skin, movements just a touch (okay, very) uncoordinated but they do finally manage to get each other somewhat naked.

Scott's back over in his seat and leaning down to take Stiles in his mouth when he hears a loud rumble.

The hell?  
He hears it again and then he realizes its source – it's Stiles' stomach.

"Dude, you okay?" Scott asks from where he has his head resting against Stiles' thigh.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Stiles guides Scott back to his dick, finally feeling wet lips seal around the head when his stomach rumbles again and Scott's taking his mouth away and fuck, he wishes that he could catch a damn break at least once this century when it comes to Scott blowing him.

"I'm not gonna be able to blow you if that keeps happening." It is really distracting and Scott would much rather hear Stiles' moans and gasps of pleasure than his gassy intestines.

Stiles groans, momentarily tightening his grip on Scott's hair in frustration. "Alright, fine. I'm just as hungry as I am horny. Kind of hard to eat when I've had a constant boner for oh, almost two days solid now."

"Dude, we can eat and then do this. It's fine – thirty more minutes isn't going to kill us." Scott sits up but doesn't take his hand off of Stiles dick, keeping up a light pressure on it as he strokes gently, adding that much more to the fire already burning hotly in Stiles' veins.

Stiles sighs, looking at Scott's face and he's torn because as much as he wants to paint him with come he also wants a burger – maybe they can work something out where he gets both at the same time. Scott wouldn't be offended, would he?

"Alright. Alright let's go eat and then bro, we're getting each other off. It's happening and you don't get a say in the matter." Stiles starts his jeep up, Scott tucking himself back in his pants and keeping his hands off of Stiles – as much as he wants his cock he also doesn't want to crash either.

As it turns out, neither of them get a say in the matter – Scott gets called home to watch the house when Melissa gets called in on the night shift and Stiles has to go back home simply on the basis of the sheriff wants him there and staying out of trouble – which means not at Scott's house. It's a cruel, cruel world, Stiles thinks to himself. All he wants is to rub off on his boyfriend or blow him or both or _whatever_. He just knows that he's not going to be satisfied until they make each other come together.

He just wishes the universe would stop conspiring to prevent it from happening.

. . .

The rest of the week goes by in a similar fashion – every time he and Scott are about to get hot and heavy _something_ comes up – Scott has to stay an extra hour at work, the sheriff needs Stiles' help with something, Stiles' jeep battery dies on the way to Scott's house – each afternoon it's a different incident and Scott's got the world's worst case of blue balls by the time Friday evening rolls around. He's so horny it's physically hurting him and thank God for lacrosse practice because it means he can take out some of that pent up energy on sport, running around and slamming into bodies and apparently doing extremely well – he's not paying that much attention, truthfully, mind fueled by lust-based energy and rage at the world at large because it clearly doesn't want him to go down on his boyfriend. It's maddening.

Even if it does help him play lacrosse really well, almost as good as the werewolf DNA pumping through his arteries (he tries not to think about it, he has enough issues to deal with as it is. A horny werewolf is the last thing the world – and Stiles- needs right now.)

Scott stays out on the field until long after everyone else has gone, not even Stiles hanging around – the coach must have wanted to speak to him, try and figure out why Scott had gone rage-fuelled bulldozer in practice that afternoon. Whatever. He just knows that lacrosse is doing a good job of keeping the massive pool of lust dammed up inside him for the time being.

He's about to swing another ball into the goal when there's a hand on his shoulder, spinning him around and it's Stiles, no helmet on his head and no gloves on his fingers, sneaking under Scott's jersey and running his hands over his abs. "You done here, Red Bull?"

Scott tries to fix him with a glare at the nickname but he's far more interested in Stiles' fingers moving up towards his chest. "Yeah, why?"

Stiles gives him his absolute best "you're fucking kidding me, right" face. "So we can go and do what we've been trying all week. You know, the thing involving us rubbing against each other like the teenagers we are?" Stiles is already tugging Scott back in the direction of the building so clearly Scott's not going to have much say in the matter.

"What, here?" Scott's voice goes up an octave between words.

"No, I thought we'd go out to dinner and catch a movie first. Yes here, you dork. The locker room's empty and Coach has gone home. I told him you needed some time to work out some… stuff. Left the place unlocked for when you were done."

Scott really, really can't believe his friend at times like this. "And he believed you?"

"Dude, he watched you go apeshit on everyone today. He agreed that it was probably best if you finished working off some steam. Well… part of it anyway." Stiles waggles his eyebrows like he's made some great innuendo – it's cheesy and unbearably cute all at the same time.

"You're an idiot." Scott stops them and pushes his helmet up, pulling Stiles in for a kiss right there on the edge of the field.

"Your idiot." The kiss is smoldering, warmer than warm against the chilly autumn air around them, Stiles not holding back in the least as he fucks Scott's mouth with his tongue, Scott making needy little whines into his mouth and as much as Stiles would love to keep making out he's got bigger goals in mind.

He'd left the shower running in the locker room so by the time they get back it's filled with steam, the two of them stripping off where Scott has his bag and things tucked away in a row of lockers towards the center, naked as they grope and rub against each other towards the warm water, Stiles clutching soap and lube in one hand. Why Stiles had lube on him at school Scott will entertain later – he's only interested in what he's going to do with it right now.

Scott pushes Stiles up against the tiled wall, keeping his wrists pinned and it's the first full body contact they've had in a week, fire lighting up over their skin that burns hotter than the water streaming over them. They're still locked together in a hungry kiss, tongues licking into each other's mouths as deep as they'll go and when Stiles rolls his hips against Scott's Scott rolls back, moving in sync like they have forever now, Stiles thinking parts shutting down because Scott's holding him down and having his way with him.

The word aphrodisiac doesn't even begin to do justice to what he's experiencing at the moment.

Scott pulls his mouth away, wet bangs falling over his forehead as he murmurs "and now, I'm gonna suck your cock until you come down my throat. And don't hold back bro – been waiting too long for it." Stiles just nods as Scott gets to his knees, keeping his legs spread and steady as he grips Stiles by the base of his cock, pulling his foreskin back and in one go swallows him, mouth a perfect, tight "o" around his boyfriend's length and the taste of salt and skin makes his head go light, finally getting that taste he's been seeking for a solid week now and sucks hard. Stiles didn't exactly get up and run around like Scott did but it sure as hell doesn't stop Scott from inhaling deeply – he smells good, sweaty and earthy and lovely. It only serves to make Scott that much more turned on, so he make sure to add as much pressure as he can, working his throat muscles as well as he's able too, considering he's not exactly deep throated Stiles that much. Clearly it as the desired effect as Stiles lets out a loud moan, the orgasm that's been lurking since last Saturday morning violently wanting to come out. Scott tries to build him up as much as he can but really Stiles doesn't need that much help.

There's also the added bonus of Scott pulling off him just far enough and holding his mouth open so that Stiles' come splashes all over his face and lips, streaking up and over Scott's eyelashes and nose, pulse after pulse of come and it's a wonder Stiles doesn't lose his footing in the process. Scott just looks mighty proud of himself, coaxing the last few drops out with a gentle suckling motion at the head and gets back to his feet, registering that Stiles' dick didn't soften in the least.

"C'mere" Scott growls, pulling Stiles forward and then Stiles' mouth is full of his own spunk, reaching down for Scott's cock and giving it a few good strokes, swiping his thumb over the head and playing with Scott's foreskin, making Scott half moan, half whimper into his mouth and then there's a gush of come up and over his hand, spattering he and Scott's bellies and there's just as much from Scott as there had been from Stiles, thick and heavy and once Scott stops biting his bottom lip from climaxing he brings his sticky fingers up, Scott sucking and licking each one clean before he resumes kissing Stiles again, commingled jizz on each other's tongues pulling them in even deeper to each other.

It's a long while before they pull away from each other, both of them still rock hard and not at all sated. "Wanna fuck now?" Stiles mouths the words into Scott's wet skin as he moves to nibble on his ear.

Scott sucks in a breath through his teeth when Stiles pulls off of his lobe very, very slowly. "Yes."

"How do you want it, babe?" Stiles only ever calls him babe whenever they're about to have sex and it makes warmth that's not brought on by the hot water trickle down his spine.

"From behind, Stiles. Make me yours." Scott turns around, bracing himself against the wall and Stiles takes a moment to perv on Scott's muscled back and legs, surging forward and kissing down the long dip of Scott's spine – his next goal is to see how his come pools in it, but that'll be for later. He gets to his knees, Scott pushing his ass out when he feels Stiles' hands on his hips, offering himself up and Christ if that's not a fucking turn on, Scott just giving himself away like he's there for nothing but Stiles' pleasure.

"Fuck" is the only warning Scott gets before Stiles buries his face in his ass, closing his eyes and inhaling the same way Scott did on his dick, mouth open wide as he wastes no time in eating Scott out, tongue working in and around Scott's hole like he's at a feast for one. Scott manages to get a hand on the back of his head and press him in even closer, grunting "deeper" and Stiles goes as far in as he can, loosening his boy up for him, sloppy wet and perfect because it's Scott, who deserves the very best Stiles has to offer and he's not even going to try to deny him that. Obviously he's doing good work, given the noises that spill unbidden from Scott's mouth, echoing off the tiles and metal lockers because they're finally alone and can be as noisy as they please.

Maybe it's ten minutes, twenty, an hour before Stiles gets back to his knees, Scott's whole body taut like a drawn bow and Stiles gives him a couple lube coated fingers to prep that little bit extra, knowing that he can't take any longer than that because this is something they both needed a week ago, stretching him just enough to where it won't hurt _that_ much. Scott's definitely on board with that plan, given the way he holds himself open as Stiles slicks his dick up and slathers more lube on Scott's hole, Scott whining for Stiles to just _fucking hurry up, bro._

Scott's always caught a little off guard by how deceptively long Stiles is, pushing into him as quickly and comfortable as he possibly can, his heart thudding loudly in his ears as Stiles bottoms out, their bodies molded to the other like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Scott gets one hand on his cock as he holds himself steady against the wall with the other, Stiles keeping one arm wrapped around his body and the other steady on his hip as he starts to fuck him.

Spastic as he may be in everything else Stiles knows_ exactly_ what he's doing here, fucking Scott with ever greater intensity, starting slow to let Scott finish adjusting and then once he feels Scott start to clench more around him he doesn't hold back, the slaps of their bodies sounding lewdly in the locker room, ever moan from Scott's mouth punched out by Stiles' hips, mostly a mixture of Stiles' name and attempts at it, the loveliest sex noises Stiles has ever heard. Not that he's heard that many but Scott's are more than enough to make up for any action he hasn't been getting elsewhere.

Stiles leans forward, burying his face in the back of Scott's head and inhaling, scenting him again because it's become this weird thing between them, smelling each other when they're intimate and Scott smells so fucking good, sweaty and watery and he licks up the curve of his neck for good measure, grazing his teeth against Scott's smooth skin in the process.

"Whatcha doin' back there?" Scott tries to keep fucking himself on Stiles' dick, seeing as how Stiles has stopped to smell the proverbial roses. Or werewolf. Whatever.

"Nothing." Stiles covers the fact that he's licking Scott like some sort of popsicle with a kiss, resuming fucking his boyfriend into oblivion as quick as you please.

"If you want to… bite me…"

Stiles takes the offer before Scott can finish the thought, sinking his teeth deep into the meat of Scott's neck and okay, he's totally jealous he didn't get to bite Scott like that werewolf did but now he is, marking Scott up because Scott's his and no one else's and he takes his repressed jealousy out on Scott's ass, Scott none the wiser for it, just seeing it as Stiles fucking him like there's no tomorrow and when he feels Stiles break the skin and a trickle of blood runs down his shoulder Scott comes, hard, to the point where tears mingle with the water running down his face because it's so overwhelming, Stiles slamming himself into Scott with his climax and screaming into Scott's skin, coming deep inside him where only he'll know about it.

There's a long pause of them trying to catch their breath before Stiles pulls out, Scott's breath hitching when he feels his body finally releases his boyfriend and then Stiles is turning him around, holding him in his arms and kissing him as tender he can be, hand rubbing over the bite mark in Scott's neck in an attempt to soothe any pain that might be there.

Scott grabs his hand and whispers "It's alright. I kind of like it. Cause I'm yours, Stiles. No one else's."

Stiles grins, mussing Scott's already wet and string hair even further. "No shit, Sherlock."

Scott pushes him away with an equal grin, rolling his eyes at him and saying "you better clean me up good."

"And if I don't?" Stiles retrieve the soap, lathering his hands up and beginning to run them over every inch of Scott's back and shoulders.

"Then this is closed for the weekend. No more sex or blowjobs or anything for a whole forty eight hours." Scott gives him a shit-eating grin that screams the fact he's lying.

All the same, Stiles makes sure he washes Scott twice, just to be safe.


End file.
